


A Love Like Religion

by drpinkky



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpinkky/pseuds/drpinkky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, though, something about the way Peggy looked at her reminded Angie that angels could fall, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In church, they said she was going to Hell. Angie believed them. Every glance at another woman, she remembered those sermons. Except for Peggy. Everything about her was perfect, all curves and soft smiles. She was gorgeous and smart and kind. When Angie thought about Peggy, she thought maybe damnation wouldn't be so bad. Or at least she wouldn't burn alone.

Except Peggy wasn't like her. If anything, Peggy was an angel.

Sometimes, though, something about the way Peggy looked at her reminded Angie that angels could fall, too.

 

They told her she'd chosen a life of sin. Angie tried to remember when she did. She'd never wanted to fall in love with her best friend, but Peggy made that nearly impossible. It wasn't a choice. Her love wasn't a choice.

They didn't see it that way.

As they preached, Angie's stomach churned. She couldn't help thinking these were directed at her. No matter that no one here knew.

She sat there in her Sunday best, wondering what Peggy would think of her if she found out.

She wouldn't let herself imagine the best, so she tormented herself with the worst.

 

They preached that the devil made sinning look attractive. After two glasses of red wine, Angie couldn't say she disagreed.

Peggy had let her hair down before dinner, but she hadn't truly relaxed until they were lounging on the sofa, with the sound of Benny Goodman's orchestra crackling over the radio. As the piece played on, a contented smile spread over Peggy's face. Angie tried to convince herself that the way her stomach pitched at that smile was just her food settling.

"Are you feeling alright?" Peggy asked as the music faded. This time, Angie could confidently say it wasn't Peggy's smile that made her stomach turn. Nor was it her food. There was no easy way to say every Sunday was just another reminder that she wasn't normal. That all the proper women her age sat with their husbands and children. And that she'd never have that. Instead, she just shrugged.

"My stomach could feel better, I suppose." Peggy nodded sympathetically. "You know, that won't help you much," she said, looking pointedly at the half finished glass of wine in Angie's hand, even as she took a sip from her own. Angie set it on the coffee table and sighed.

Peggy shifted closer. Her trousers rubbed against the stockings Angie was wearing, tickling her legs.

"You're looking flushed, darling," Peggy murmured. She laid her palm against Angie's forehead. "Are you getting sick?"Angie shook her head. She leaned into Peggy's side, and Peggy wrapped an arm around her torso after setting her glass next to Angie's.

"I've just been thinking too much, I suppose."

Peggy nodded. "If you need to talk, I'm here to listen," she offered. Angie nodded and rested her head on Peggy's shoulder. She toyed with the fingers resting against her ribs, enjoying the quiet. Peggy reached over and tucked a loose lock of hair behind Angie's ear, trailing her fingers over her neck in the process.

Angie glanced up at Peggy's face. She stopped thinking and slowly, ever so slowly, leaned further into Peggy's space. Then she was kissing Peggy. And Peggy was kissing her back. And it felt good.

And that was the most terrifying part.

Angie shot back as she realized what she'd done. Even Peggy's faint smile didn't stop the bile rising in her throat. "Oh, God," she murmured, "I kissed you." Tears welled in her eyes as she turned and ran. 


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy watched Angie run to her room, too stunned to stop her. She wasn't sure by what, the kiss or Angie's reaction, but one second, she and her friend were kissing, and the next, Angie was gone. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Angie, or scare her, or ruin their friendship, but she feared that's exactly what she'd done. She replayed the kiss in her mind, trying to figure out just what happened.

The faint sound of a toilet flushing, followed by a shower turning on brought her out of her reverie. The pipes groaning reminded her of her years in boarding school, and of her occasional flings with other girls there. How they had often started as close friendships, then grown to more. Had she misinterpreted what she had with Angie?

She waited ten minutes after the water stopped before she rose to her feet and padded to Angie's room.

 

There was no response when she knocked, but Peggy thought she heard sniffling. She waited at the door, and just as she raised her hand to knock again, the door opened. Angie stood in front of her, swallowed by a plush bathrobe. Her hair was still damp, and Peggy couldn't tell if her cheeks were wet from the shower or crying. Her bloodshot eyes contrasted alarmingly with how pale she was, which caused a knot of worry to rise in Peggy's throat.

"Hey," Angie said weakly.

"Hey," Peggy responded.

They stood there awkwardly, and it dawned on Peggy that Angie had the look of a cornered animal.

She'd seen that look before. In soldiers who knew they were dying. The physicist in Russia. Steve, after Sergeant Barnes fell. It was a look of desperation and fear.

Seeing it on Angie's face was enough to tear Peggy's heart in two.

Knowing she'd been the cause of it only made it worse.

"May I come in?" Peggy asked after a moment. Angie hesitated, then nodded, stepping aside to allow Peggy access to her room.

Peggy sat tentatively at the foot of the bed, while Angie drew her knees into her chest, leaning against the headboard. The space between them may as well have been a brick wall.

"Angie, I'm sorry," Peggy started, but Angie's shaking head cut her off.

"You got nothing to be sorry for, English." She mumbled. "You're not-"Her voice hitched and she stopped for a moment. "You're not like me," she managed in a whisper, looking at the bedspread.

She buried her face in her sleeves and let out a few shuddering breaths. Peggy wanted nothing more than to wrap Angie in her arms and never let go. Instead, she stood and walked around the bed, and sat next to Angie, still leaving space between them.

"I kissed you, Peggy." Angie's voice was muffled by her sleeves. She drew in one breath, then another, then she turned to the side and leaned over the edge of the bed and retched. Peggy reached out to steady her so she didn't fall as she dry heaved.

"I guess I am sick," Angie commented with a tight smile as she straightened. Peggy couldn't quite tell how she meant it. Angie positioned herself against Peggy and sighed. She intertwined their fingers and squeezed.

"Why does God hate me?" She asked, then started crying.

 

Peggy had given up on God long ago. She'd been through hell, and it was never ending. First, the war. Then Steve. Then Colleen. Then Krzeminski and Dooley. The school in Russia.

Now, she looked down at Angie, one of the most amazing women she'd ever met, sobbing because He hated her. For how He made her. And Peggy couldn't do a thing about it. She stroked Angie's hair and wondered how a loving God could let these things happen.

"I'm going to Hell, English," she whispered, but she may as well have punched Peggy the gut. She looked away from Angie and wiped a tear from her own cheek. "I'm going to Hell because of something I can't control."

When she was a child, Peggy had always imagined the devil was a man in a nice suit, his slicked-back hair hiding his horns as he made deals for people's souls. As she endured the war, his face morphed to resemble that of Hitler and Red Skull. Lately, Fenhoff came to mind if ever she thought about it. She realized now that he was also those men preaching from pulpits in church, who made Angie believe she was broken and a sinner.

Angie was already in hell. Those men in church had seen to that. There was no way Peggy could convince her otherwise, either.

 

Peggy sat quietly, listening as Angie's sobs faded. She rubbed her thumb over Angie's, but other than that, she didn't move until she glanced at a clock and saw it was nearing midnight. She started to extricate herself from the bed, but Angie squeezing her hand gave her pause.

"Stay?" She croaked, voice rough from crying for hours. Peggy nodded. She stretched out behind Angie, never letting go of her hand. Angie shifted so her back was pressed against Peggy. 

"This alright?" she asked.

Peggy moved their linked hands so they were draped over Angie's stomach and nodded. "It is." 

Angie sighed, and Peggy imagined she was smiling. 

 

Peggy didn't mean to stay up through the night. She hadn't made it so long without coffee since early in the army. Still, her worry for Angie wouldn't let her sleep. The only sound in the room was Angie's breathing and her occasional mumble, but even those didn't soothe her nerves.

She didn't let go of Angie's hand for even a second.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to AstraBabe, she called me satan and made me laugh
> 
> I'm back hello
> 
> I listened to badlands so many times over the weekend I spent so much time in the car over Labor Day weekend and then Tuesday and Wednesday while touring colleges oh wow my head was hurting anyhow yeah!


End file.
